


Little Game

by pandainpanties



Category: South Park
Genre: Clyde and Tweek aren't together, Clyde is a meme, Clyde is just very fond of Tweek, Imagination, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Vague relationship, it's in my nature to have plot so there's lowkey plot in the beginning, sorta - Freeform, voyeurism kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandainpanties/pseuds/pandainpanties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The number came from the first day Tweek decided to play this game. He counted carefully how many times Craig touched him that day, and the touches had to be on purpose. The first time he counted ten times. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ten days he went without touching himself, no matter how strong the need or how hard he was. If he broke it, another day was added on. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>So far he has made it the total twenty days without touching himself. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Without getting off to Craig.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [576p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/576p/gifts).



> Hoo boi, this is my first time writing smut so I hope it's good ahaha. Enjoy!
> 
> (Also if you're aware of my Undertale/Underfell fic, I'm still working on it I just suck ass at updating lmao.)
> 
> Special thanks to my [beta.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei)

“Don’t be a little bitch, Clyde.”

“Shut the fuck up, Craig.”

“G-Guys, I-I don’t think-”

“Quiet, Tweek, he’s doing this.”

“I don’t understand the humour behind this. It’s disgusting.”

“It t-takes a l-lot to understand h-h-humour, Token. Just r-r-r-roll with it.”

Token sighs before turning back to the large textbook in his lap. Tweek makes a low whining sound, giving a worried glance to Clyde in the passenger seat. Craig’s hands are on the wheel, glancing back and forth between the road and Clyde’s uncomfortable face, a slight sadistic grin framing his sharp features.

Clyde holds a worm in his hand, the poor thing wriggling in what looks like an unnatural manner. He swallows thickly and Tweek buries his face in the armpit of Token’s thick, expensive coat. Jimmy sits on Tweek’s right, egging Clyde on from the backseat.

Clyde grimaces, much to Craig’s amusement,  before holding the small wriggling creature above his mouth.

Tweek peeks out from Token coat at the wrong moment.

“J-J-J-esus! Don’t f-f-fucking do it!”

“I need the fifty dollars, Tweek,” Clyde whines out.

Tweek pulls dangerously at his hair. Token has to grab at the blond’s wrists to keep his scalp from bleeding.

“Y-Y-You could w-work at my coffee s-shop! Just d-d-on’t - don’t eat the worm, dude!”

Clyde hesitates and looks at the twitching blond in the backseat, arms cuffed with Token’s steady hands.

“You mean it, Tweek?”

Tweek nods profusely.

“I c-can ask my parents to h-hire you short term. Y-You can get your m-money.”

Clyde looks ready to cry.

“I love you, Tweek.”

Craig scrunches his nose.

“Gay.”

Clyde rolls down the window to toss the worm out, the wriggling noodle creature landing in the wet grass.

“Fuck you, Craig. Why do I hang out with this group anyways.”

“Because you’re a loser with no friends.”

“I have friends.”

“No you don’t.”

Clyde scoffs defensively.

“Even if I don’t, at least people _like_ me.”

“Nobody likes you, Clyde.”

“I like Clyde.”

“Nobody asked you, Tweek.”

Clyde gives an angry look to Craig’s stoic face before reaching back to intertwine his fingers with Tweek’s. The blond giggled nervously. Clyde ended up being the most touchy of the group as they grew up. He always looked for an excuse to touch them but found he never needed one for Tweek.

“Don’t talk to my new BFF like that!”

“Nobody says ‘BFF’ anymore. This is why you don’t have friends.”

Clyde brings Tweek’s hand up to his face, pressing the bony knuckles up to his plush cheek. Tweek feels an urge to brush back the quiff of Clyde’s hair.

“Tweek is my only friend. He is good to me.” Clyde looks up into Tweek’s light brown eyes. “I’m going to marry you, Tweek. We’ll ditch this stupid town and live in a nice, quiet place with cherry blossoms and endless coffee. You’re my cinnamon roll, Tweek.”

Token sighs.

“Will you please stop referring to Tweek as a pastry?”

“But he’s my cinnamon roll. So sweet and pure.”

“I t-think he got it from tu-tu-tungle or s-something,” Jimmy comments.

“Tu-”

“I don’t care,” Craig announces.

Clyde sighs as the car comes to a stop.

“Get out of my car, loser.”

Clyde leaves a small kiss on Tweek’s hand and flutters his eyelashes, causing Tweek to curl in one himself from suppressing his giggles.

“Later, Tweek.” The brunet lets Tweek’s frail hand fall from his own, sliding out of the car. He shuts the door and walks around the front, waving and smiling through the windshield.

Tweek is momentarily startled to feel a cold breeze assault his left side. Token has gotten out of the car, too.

“Bye, guys.”

“S-see ya, Token.”

“Later.”

“C-c-catch you a-around, buddy.”

Token closes the door and follows the smaller brunet into his house, shutting the door gently behind them. Tweek wiggles his butt to Token’s spot, reveling in his friend’s leftover warmth.

The car ride is relatively quiet as Craig drives to drop Jimmy off. They bid their farewells and keep on driving.

Once, Craig asked Tweek why he didn’t come up in the passenger seat beside him. Tweek shrugged and simply said he liked the backseat better. Craig never asked again.

In the silence of the car and the mildly soothing sound of the engine humming, Tweek let himself explore his closeted thoughts. Though they were in high school now, their group hasn’t changed much. Or at all. Aside from appearance differences and subtle personality changes, they were nearly the same.

Craig expectedly turned out to be the tallest. Or, he was until Token shot two inches above him during freshman year. _That_ was unexpected. Clyde was only an inch or two above Tweek’s own height, making the brunet around five foot six. Jimmy was the shortest of the group.

In short, Token eventually stopped caring about his reputation in school and decided to go full out in his clothing. They were expensive enough that Tweek screamed fearfully when Token draped his coat over the blond’s slim shoulders one particularly breezy morning. Tweek no longer wore the same button ups he used to. With puberty, he became self-conscious and invested in several pullover hoodies and sweaters. His hair had grown a bit longer as well, and he stopped twitching and stuttering as much.

Except when he was scared, in which controlling his speech became a lost cause.

Craig ditched his hat well into seventh grade. It wasn’t until sophomore year, however, that he started to ditch his sweaters as well. Now all he wore was shirts, no matter how cold it was. Whenever somebody questioned it, Clyde would intervene with “ _the cold never bothered him anyway_ ”.  

Clyde got punched a lot.

Tweek’s thoughts hesitate on Craig, but before he can delve any further the car stops.

“I’ll come over in a bit Tweek.”

Tweek looks up into the rearview mirror to see Craig’s eyes trained on him. His gaze is alarmingly intense, a shiver raking through Tweek’s body.

“How long will you take?”

Craig is quiet for half a second.

“About thirty minutes.”

_That’s enough time._

“A-All right. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.”

Tweek grabs his messenger bag, heavy with textbooks he doesn’t trust to leave in the dingy lockers at school and steps out of the car. He shuts the door with too much force and scares himself as it slams shut. Craig gives him a look through the window which can be described as _amused_.

He fingers the withering strap on his bag as he hurries to open the front door. His hand hesitates on the knob, closing his eyes.

_Please don’t let my parents be home, please don’t let my parents be home, please -_

“Mom? Dad? I’m home.”

A pause.

“Hello?” He calls out shakily.

No answer.

_Good_.

He doesn’t want to seem antsy, he knows he has plenty of time but something is coiling so tightly inside of him, making him jittery with nervousness and pure excitement that he stumbles up the stairs and barges into his room, out of breath. He sets his bag down by the door - in _front_ of the door - Craig barges into rooms without a care in the world and Tweek can’t afford that. He knows he’ll hear the front door open and he’ll hear his ever heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs but _just in case._

If Tweek is honest with himself, he’s so excited and anxious that he’s not even on his bed yet and he’s half hard. He has this game with himself, each time he gives into this, he has to add another number to the penalty.

The number came from the first day Tweek decided to play this game. He counted carefully how many times Craig touched him that day, and the touches had to be on purpose. The first time he counted ten times.

Ten days he went without touching himself, no matter how strong the need or how hard he was. If he broke it, another day was added on.

So far he has made it the total twenty days without touching himself.

Without getting off to Craig.

Tweek isn’t one for self-praise but _god_ , in this moment, it’s perfect and he feels like he’s _deserved_ this. There’s a part of him that wants to go fast, to flood himself with his release and relief instantly, but he knows - boy does he know - the side of him that wants the slowness, the teasing - it’ll win him over like it always does.

So he sits himself down, situates his body on top of his blanket, back propped up against his mountain of pillows that make him feel safe when he’s sleeping. He believes this many pillows will either scare off an intruder or will make him invisible to whoever is searching for him.

He checks the time. Twenty-five minutes left. There’s so much time - so much - he almost wants to cry with relief, but that’ll come soon enough.

Tweek draws in a deep breath, equally shaky on the inhale and the exhale. An ecstatic whimper escapes him as he leisurely moves his hands from his hips to his thighs. No, that’s too fast, he draws them back up to his hips, fingers pressing down where hip connects to thigh. _Breathe in, breathe out, take your time._

His hands linger on his hips for another full minute before he slides them back down to his thighs, the feeling much more satisfying now that he’s waited for it. He always spreads his fingers far apart as he can, presses into his skin roughly, trying to mimic the feel of Craig’s overly large hands. Tweek never hesitates to think of what  it would be like if Craig were with him, hands groping firmly at his sides, his legs, thumbs stroking the insides of his thighs, pinning his legs apart, leaving him open and _that’s too fast slow down._

Tweek inhales sharply, voice high as a hyperventilating giggle escapes him. Too fast, too fast, he’s too excited, but he doesn’t want to stop.

A soft, pleased sound comes with his exhale as he squeezes his thighs lightly. He’s calmed down from it and it’s time to move on to the next part.

He forgot to wear a belt today. Tweek’s so thin, even his skinny jeans don’t hold on his waist. Through the whole day, he was scolding himself, but, right here, right now, he’s glad he doesn’t have to fiddle with such a contraption to undo his jeans.

With the buttons undone, he grabs for the zipper and pauses, whining in protest, as if his hands belonged to somebody else and he wasn’t in control of them. The zipper moves slowly, and his hips wriggle as if they can hurry up this process, too. It stops halfway and Tweek groans in frustration. Just _come off already._

The zipper pulls at a tantalisingly slow pace, and he wants to scream in impatience at this like it’s not his fault, but somebody else’s.

Like it’s _Craig’s_ fault.

At this thought, Tweek gnashes his teeth together, imaging Craig was in front of him and he’s biting at Craig’s fair skin, imprinting his teeth with visible irritation. Craig is there, and he growls with arousal, latching his long fingers onto Tweek’s jeans and sliding them off. Tweek makes a loud, kneading sound, wanting to tell Craig to slow it down, make it last, but he can visibly see Craig’s arousal through his jeans, straining hard against the dark fabric and the pace doesn't seem to bother him much anymore.

His jeans and boxers are bunched at mid-thigh, his erection springing free and bobbing proudly between his legs, tip an angry red and already leaking with precum. He so badly doesn’t want to touch himself just yet, and he imagines Craig just blatantly grabbing at him, hand covering the entirety of his cock and mouth hovering over the exposed head. His breath is hot and Tweek can see the shiny bulb piercing on Craig’s tongue, and he’s too focused on the shiny silver ball to realise that’s Craig’s tongue on his dick. Tweek writhes violently, hands clawing at his covers as he let’s out a shuddery gasp, body flushed with a heavy, lascivious heat that hangs over him like a steamy fog. In the back of his mind, he’s afraid of ripping his covers, but he’s too busy dealing with the imaginary sensation of Craig flicking his warm, wet tongue over the small v on the underside of his erection to really care.

Tweek unsteadily jerks his hand on his cock, voice loud and hoarse with need.  He opens his eyes, something wet on his shirt catching his attention. His eyebrows furrow in distant disgust, wiping the drool that leaked from his mouth.

Reluctantly, he moves to sit up on his knees, leaning over the edge of the bed and reaching for the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulls out a travel sized bottle of self-lubricant and a thick, red dildo with a blue vibrating head he’s fondly named The Tucker Fucker.

With his newly attained items, he falls back onto his covers, lifting his legs in the air and pulling his bunched jeans and boxers down to his ankles. For a second, he’s about to assume his usual position, on his knees with his face buried into the covers and his ass in the air, but that’s before his imagination grants him yet another blessing.

Tweek’s legs shake in anticipation before he wriggles further down on his bed. With this, he closes his eyes and runs his hands down to his exposed thighs, brushing his cool fingertips along the sensitive skin and pushing his legs apart, biting at his swollen lower lip as the cold air stimulates his throbbing erection. He blindly searches for the small tube of warm lubricant and pops open the cap, rubbing between his fingers before propping his legs up on his tip toes. Tweek struggles for breath as he rims his slick finger against the ring of muscle, whimpering at how tight he seems to have gotten. It’s been twenty days, he reminds himself, and he can’t rush into this.

He works at it long enough to gingerly slide in his first finger, applying more lube as needed. In a bout of clear consciousness, he checks the time again.

Ten minutes left.

_Fuck_. Did he waste too much time jerking off instead of properly using his toys? Whatever, it gave him a plausible reason to rush, god forbid Craig comes over unexpectedly early and catches him like this.

Tweek pauses in his advances, finger stilling inside of him. This new idea fuels an undisclosed ache deep in his belly.

Tweek continues his efforts, arching his finger upwards and sliding a second finger in, mewling as loud as he could without the whole neighbourhood hearing. He closes his eyes, grabbing at the dildo laying against his side, positioning it in front of his slick and needy hole, rubbing the head of it anxiously against himself. His nimble fingers reach around for the lube again - he’d have to get some more soon - and applies it to the dildo, imagining it was Craig’s cock he was coating. He pretends it is, like always, while attentively pushing the head of the toy into his hole, all the while pretending Craig is coming up those stairs, expecting to play video games with Tweek or watch cute animal videos on YouTube. He won’t expect Tweek sprawled out on his bed, the bed they’ve both slept in during innocent sleep overs, wailing in sweet bliss as he fucks himself with what Tweek has self-declared as Craig’s thick erection. He won’t expect to see this, and coupled with it, Tweek’s murmuring and whining of Craig’s name as the noirette stands and watches with blank shock through the purposely left crack in the doorway.  

The blond continues to  claw and pull at his covers, covers he and Craig have built endless pillow forts with, as he pushes the toy at an angle, rubbing over that sweet spot that makes him shamelessly holler in delectation. The angle is perfect, though, and he lifts his legs off the bed and higher up into the air, spreading them further apart, easily and almost too casually imagining they’re propped up on Craig’s broad shoulders, high up and pressed against his neck. Tweek pants, puffs of quick breath before keening lowly. He sounds like a cat in heat, but the thought is quickly tossed to the side as he finds it, that _spot_ , and all that’s in his mind is _there, there, there, Craig, yes,_ **_there_ ** _._

It’s such an intense and forceful feeling, everything tightens at once, and he knows he’s so loud he has to slap a hand over his own mouth, practically screaming at the pulsing waves that shake through his body, a violent earthquake as he’s decorated with hot white ribbons. He’s like a cake, he thinks, somehow, and he wants Craig to lick him up like he’s made of frosting, to bite at his skin and ravish him like he hasn’t eaten in a week. It’s over after a few solid seconds, and he’s bathing in the an afterglow so prominent, he’s sure his skin is actually glowing. It’s over but his legs are shaking and so is his breathing and his heart is thrumming he’s afraid it might explode.

As he pants and calms from the afterglow, he lazily rolls his head to the side to check the time.

Two minutes.

Tweek thinks it’s amazing how unrushed he feels now. Nothing matters right now, not even if Craig walks through that door this very minute and sees him like this. There’s only two minutes until Craig should arrive, but Craig is always fashionably late and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t think of this until now.

He’s up and cleaning himself off in the bathroom five minutes later, now fully paranoid of smelling like cum or sex, which Tweek never understood how a single person could smell of sex, but he was too tired to think of thought provoking questions such as that one.

Five more minutes after that and he’s fully dressed in loungewear and wiping his toys down before he hears a knock on the door.

It’s when he’s already down the stairs and his toy is stashed away until he realises something.

Craig touched him ten times today.

Tweek is giddy and half hard when he realises his game will continue in one agonising yet titillating month.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the ending was awkward or something, I ended up rushing it ;-; Leave a kudos/comment if you liked it! 
> 
> P.S. If you'd like, send some sp ship prompts over to my [tumblr](http://pandainpanties.tumblr.com/ask) , I'd be happy to make some a one-shot's collection of stories to keep writers block away (preferably non-smut ones ;-; )


End file.
